


Coached

by actualgarbage



Series: Ark High School [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4110063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualgarbage/pseuds/actualgarbage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My team is better than yours and you know it,” he glared and tried very very very hard not to look at her lips.</p><p>“That’s not possible because my team has the best coach in the entire world,” he could tell she was trying to look serious but there was laughter creeping into her expression against her will.</p><p>“That’s absurd! I don’t coach water sports!” He shot back, never missing a beat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coached

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an anonymous tumblr prompt. Also sorry for the awful title but I literally could not think of anything to call it.  
> Enjoy

Bellamy had never intended to become a soccer coach. Truthfully speaking he hadn’t really even meant to become a high school teacher, but rarely does life go as planned for anyone. 

When Bellamy was in high school he had barely even made the team when soccer tryouts came around. He’d only gone to them because it was better than sitting at home watching his mother waste her life and fight with whatever boyfriend was living in their house at the time. Soccer provided a sort of outlet for his anger and more importantly, his coach let him drag Octavia along to sit at practices until she was old enough to be on the high school team.

He had never been a part of a team before he was 14. The closest he’d come was the somewhat consistent group of kids who would play street ball in the parking lot of his apartment complex. His skills weren’t astounding to say the least. He barely made Junior Varsity his freshman year and got almost no playing time, and if he spent his time on the sidelines harboring resentment for the rich boys who had played on club teams since they could walk (along with the rest of the people who were responsible for his sorry excuse for a childhood) well, that was no one’s business. 

He was an angry kid who didn’t really want anything out of life except to be angry and take care of his kid sister, and that was fine by him. 

Somewhere during his sophomore year, Octavia finally called him out on it. He brooded for a few days before deciding to shape up- only because he wanted to, though. It had nothing to do with Octavia calling him a deadbeat.

He worked his ass off during conditioning and started using the few minutes he’d get on the field during scrimmages to prove he was worth more than just a JV bench warmer. His coaches noticed and started playing him here and ther in actual games. By the time summer tryouts were over going into his junior year he had managed to be a starter on JV and halfway through the season he was promoted to Varsity. He still didn’t much care for the game, but his mom was drinking more and Octavia had started to take an interest in the sport so it gave him an excuse to spend time with her instead of leaving her at home with the increasingly sketchy men her mom brought home.

Not to mention playing well meant scholarship money. So he kicked around a ball for hours every day and then spent the rest of his time studying and taking care of his sister. He was driven as hell and determined not to end up the deadbeat Octavia worried he might become.

It paid off, and he ended up with a scholarship and legal custody of his younger sister when his mother’s habits caught up with her. So he kept playing the game, switched his major from history to education, and got another job to pay the bills.

By that time soccer had become as much a job as anything else and when Ark asked him to coach he didn’t really have any good reason to say no, but as he ran drills for teenagers in preparation for Thursday's game, he couldn’t help but remember the glory and adrenaline that came with running down the field. 

“Run faster, Myles! Pick your feet up, the defense can anticipate your every move when you move that slow!” He shouted down the field.

Ark’s team was good. They admittedly had a few weak spots- their goalie was just a tad unbalanced on his feet and their forwards (*cough, cough*  _Myles_ ) needed to stop daydreaming and  _move_  already. But Bellamy was proud of them. He was also surprisingly proud to be called Coach Blake.

The swell of pride at the name was absolutely nothing compared to the strictly unnamed feeling in his chest every time he ran into a certain coworker of his. And so again he found his heart speeding up as he walked past the pool (Ark had exceptional facilities) on the way to his office when he caught sight of the aforementioned colleague bending over on the other side of the pool to talk to a straggling member of her team after practice ended. 

All he needed to do was get his things from the coaching office and get out and he could breathe again. He fumbled around with his keys for longer than he wanted to and gathered up the papers he needed and tried to convince himself that he was rushing so he could get home and finish up the lesson plans he’d been putting off all week. It had  ~~everything~~  nothing to do with the fact that there was a beautiful, intelligent, sharp-witted blonde that made him nervous like one of the high schoolers not too far away.

It would be  _totally_  unprofessional of him to have a crush on another teacher and Bellamy was nothing if not professional (this was a lie and he knew it). 

In record time he was out of the office, throwing his messenger bag over his shoulders, and barreling back down the hall just in time to run into Miss Griffin.

Literally. Run into her.

She started to fall before she reached out to try and brace her hands on his shoulders. His arms instinctively reached out to her waist to steady her. She stared at her wobbly feet for a second and looked up. Her face lit up for a second in a way Bellamy should be illegal in all 50 states (and maybe Canada) when she saw who was holding her up.

“Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have worn heels today,” Clarke breathed.

“What the hell kind of sport lets you coach in heels?” He teased in response and dammit if this wasn’t exactly what he was trying to avoid. 

“Oh please,” she dropped her hands from his shoulders to cross her arms and pop her hip, but didn’t take a step back “My diving team could kick your soccer team’s ass.”

“ _Language_ , Griffin! There may be students present!”

She rolled her eyes and smacked him lightly on the chest. His mind reminded him that he was still stupidly holding onto her like she might break any second, He shoved his hands in his pockets instead and hoped his face wasn’t as warm as the burning he felt at any contact with her.

“And my soccer team would obviously crush yours- all your team does is twirl around in the air,” he knew he had the stupid “devilish grin you get when you’re about to say something you think is really clever but is actually just bullshit” Octavia always got on him about. 

The athletic merits of diving were something that Bellamy and Clarke argued constantly over. They both knew it was most definitely a challenging and physically demanding sport, but they kept bringing it up. It was just part of their friendly rivalry. It was  _not_  flirting.  _Not_.

“Like soccer is anything more than just running back and forth,” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“My team is better than yours and you know it,” he glared and tried very very  _very_  hard not to look at her lips.

“That’s not possible because my team has the best coach in the entire world,” he could tell she was trying to look serious but there was laughter creeping into her expression against her will.

“That’s absurd! I don’t coach water sports!” He shot back, never missing a beat.

The laughter won out, then, and she was giggling (fucking  _giggling_ ). She was leaned forward with her head down and he hoped she couldn’t hear his heart pounding with the almost non existent gap between them. He knew he should have taken a step back but honestly he was already showing enough restraint by standing still when all he wanted to do was throw his arms around her, pull her to his chest and laugh with her. He’d stay right where he was, thank you.

“Oh, you meant you?” he said over her laughter, close to breaking into it himself. “I would be offended if you weren’t genuinely the best.” she paused the joyful noise she was making and looked at him a little bewildered and possibly blushing (but Bellamy was sure he was imagining that).

He had not meant to say that. Shit.

“But I guess I can live with a silver medal,” he sighed dramatically and did his best to mask his momentary lapse of hiding any signs of genuine affection outside of their rivalry with passive humor. 

He breathed a sigh of relief when she started laughing again and joined in it with her this time.

He had never meant to coach soccer, he had never meant to teach high school and he had  _never_  meant to like Clarke Griffin.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](bellarkemorelikebaellarke.tumblr.com)  
> All feedback is appreciated, my loves!  
> XOXO


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